The day Andy Murray volleyed my forehand and I yelled ‘out’
The author, Lifestyle editor Thelma Sioson San Juan, wallops a forehand to the baseline where Murray and the other visiting tennis stars wait. PJ ENRIQUEZ
MANILA, Philippines—Allow me to remember Nov. 29, 2014, as the morning Goran Ivanisevic hit a ball to my backhand (oh no …), and Andy Murray volleyed my forehand from the net—and I yelled “Out!” as I pointed my forefinger skyward. And he laughed.
Like it or not, it is tennis weekend in basketball-crazy Philippines. Some of the world’s greatest tennis players and champions have been here since Friday for the first leg of the International Premier Tennis League (IPTL). From Manila, it goes to Singapore, India and Dubai.
Filipinos have been coming in droves to SM Arena to watch their tennis idols do team tennis in a fun, fan-friendly atmosphere.
It is evident that you’re looking at a cross-section of Philippine society as soon as you step into the Arena gate. The spectators cut across the demographics, from business and industry titans, politicians, society matrons to professionals, students, coaches and ball boys.
The tennis population may not be as humongous as that of basketball in this country, but it is no less fanatical about the sport and its stars.
The author poses with tennis champion Andy Murray
Wannabe warrior
And the “fanatical” demographic, we admit, includes this writer who’s a weekend wannabe warrior on the court.
So, when Coca-Cola public relations consultant Leah Caringal asked if we wanted to join a Saturday morning tennis clinic to be conducted by these top international players, we rejoiced—deep inside—but demurred on the outside. We don’t want to join age groupers or kids, we said.
No, we were assured, the second hour would be for executives and the media.
OK, we said, but not with kids or age-groupers; that would be embarrassing for us oldies.
In fact, that was exactly what we did—unabashedly crashed the tennis clinic for kids and teeners.
This was because—a rare move for us—we came not only on time but an hour early to the Edsa Shangri-La, where the clinic would be held on its tennis court. We had in tow our tennis buddy PJ Enriquez to take photographs (so much for being camera-shy).
The youngsters in red Coca-Cola shirts—this soft drink brand is the global sponsor of IPTL—were already doing drills with 2001 Wimbledon champion Goran Ivanisevic and Daniela Hantuchova.
Caringal nudged us to fall in line and join the kids. No! But then, she said, the Coca-Cola executives were already among them, so this matron/editor wouldn’t stick out really.
No warm-up
Stick out I did. Ivanisevic felt it and had a slight smile after he hit to my backhand, and oops, I missed it. Well, what would you expect—no warm-up, and a backhand!?
We ran back to the end of the line and prodded Peter Schelstraete (Coca-Cola group marketing director of the Pacific Group) and Eduardo Rearte (Coca-Cola Philippines vice president for finance) to go ahead of us. They did. And we asked Enriquez to hit balls also, and take those shots. We were ready to snare in anyone over 15 years old, just so we didn’t stick out.
In time, we got our groove, joined the drills of Filipino Davis Cupper and the coach of IPTL’s Manila team (Manila Mavericks) Treat Huey, Hantuchova, Indian icon Sania Mirza and US Open champion Marin Cilic.
Love you, Andy
After a few minutes, the kids started shouting—“We love you, Andy!”
We turned our gaze and saw Wimbledon champion Andy Murray walking toward the court. He was nice enough to pose for photos. He seemed really like a very warm and engaging guy, quite different from his court persona.
In no time, he was feeding balls and doing the drills, as the kids screamed and fell in line. (“Oh my God! My backhand!” one boy worried.)
We joined the kids—actually this is called, going for broke.
When my turn came, Murray was already at the net, feeding balls. To my forehand, got it. My backhand, got it. My forehand again, and another forehand, I leaned on the ball and returned it hard. He volleyed, the ball landed 2 inches away from the line. Out! I shouted, and raised my forefinger to indicate so, smiling. He smiled back.
Made my day. (Thank God, there was no hawkeye at Edsa Shangri-La).
Murray, Goran Ivanisevic and Marin Cilic take a break.
A few seconds later, the drizzle became heavier and everyone had to retreat into the restaurant, where an impromptu Q&A was held with the kids. There was no media, and it was just an off-the-cuff moment with the kids.
Soon Maria Sharapova, the darling of Manila now, walked in and had her turn.
Moving on
One girl asked her, “How long does it take for you to get over your loss? What do you do after you lose?”
Cool and composed, Sharapova said, “I eat ice cream,” then chuckled. She added, “It’s like going through a breakup.” Then she said she would always move on.
2001 US Open champion and 2002 Wimbledon champion Lleyton Hewitt and Nick Kyrgios—both Australians—were also around to answer questions from the kids and their coaches.
As we were leaving the restaurant, Coca-Cola executive Rearte kidded us about our morning stint on the court, like all tennis players do after a tight match. “Yeah,” he said laughing, “Murray must be saying now, this lady gave me a hard fight.”
That was I, about to figure in another urban legend—in my mind.
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